Chapter 2 - The Other Half of the Crescent
Anna had not spoken the name in eight years.
Not aloud.
Not even when she was alone.
Some names hurt differently when given sound.
Mara.
Mara Bell.
Anna’s older sister.
Three years older.
Faster at climbing trees.
Terrible at lying.
Always humming when nervous.
The person who had given Anna the silver crescent pendant on her sixteenth birthday.
Mara kept the matching half.
Eight months later, Mara disappeared.
Police searched.
Volunteers searched.
Anna searched until the soles of her shoes split.
Nothing.
Six weeks later, authorities told the Bell family that evidence strongly suggested Mara had died after entering the river during a winter storm.
Her body was never recovered.
Anna’s mother eventually stopped questioning it.
Anna never did.
Now a crescent pendant hung from the neck of something crouched inside Eleanor’s wall.
Anna stepped toward the oven.
Eleanor grabbed her arm.
“Don’t.”
Anna ripped free.
“Where did that necklace come from?”
“I don’t know.”
“Look at me.”
Eleanor did.
Anna pulled her own pendant from beneath her uniform.
Eleanor’s eyes dropped to it.
And changed.
That was enough.
“You’ve seen this before.”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“Anna—”
“How do you know my name?”
Eleanor went silent.
Anna had never told Eleanor about Mara.
The employment agency had supplied only standard background information.
No family history.
No childhood photographs.
Nothing about the pendants.
Lily stood behind Anna, watching both women.
Then she whispered:
“She sings.”
Anna turned.
“What?”
“The lady in there.”
Lily pointed.
“She sings when the lights go away.”
Anna’s heart began pounding.
“What does she sing?”
Lily hummed four notes.
Anna nearly dropped to her knees.
Mara used to sing those exact four notes whenever Anna was frightened during thunderstorms.
Not a real song.
Something Mara invented when they were children.
Four notes.
Then four more.
Anna completed them without thinking.
From the tunnel—
the creature answered.
The final four notes.
Eleanor whispered:
“Oh God.”
Anna spun toward her.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
Eleanor looked toward Lily.
“Not here.”
Anna laughed once, breathlessly.
“There is a woman—or something that used to be a woman—living inside your wall, and you want privacy?”
The word woman felt dangerous.
Because if Lily was right…
If the pendant was real…
If the melody meant what Anna thought it meant…
Anna forced herself to approach.
“Mara?”
The creature recoiled violently.
Its shoulder struck the tunnel.
A broken, almost animal sound escaped it.
Anna stopped.
“Mara?”
The gray hand rose.
Not reaching.
Warning.
Then the creature pointed behind Anna.
Anna turned.
Eleanor was moving toward a small brass button beneath the counter.
Anna slapped her hand away.
“What is that?”
“Nothing.”
Anna pressed it.
A panel beside the pantry slid open.
Behind it was not plumbing.
Not storage.
A keypad.
Three indicator lights.
And a printed label:
CONTAINMENT ACCESS — LEVEL B.
Anna stared.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
The mansion did not merely have a tunnel.
It had containment.
Lily began crying again.
Anna picked her up.
“Who put you in there?”
“The glasses man.”
“Why?”
“He said I saw the door.”
“What door?”
Lily pointed toward the tunnel.
“He came out of the wall.”
Eleanor whispered:
“Dr. Vale.”
Anna looked at her.
“Who?”
Eleanor seemed to realize there was no longer any point pretending.
“Dr. Adrian Vale.”
“What does he have to do with this house?”
“He used to work here.”
“Doing what?”
Eleanor looked at the open oven.
“Not here.”
Anna grabbed her wrist.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because if Vale knows that door is open, he will come back.”
Anna felt a chill.
“Back?”
“He was here tonight.”
Lily buried her face against Anna.
The man with shiny glasses.
Anna understood.
“Vale put Lily inside.”
Eleanor nodded once.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Another lie.
Anna could see it.
Before she could press further, the creature suddenly began scraping frantically against the tunnel floor.
Anna turned.
It was pushing something toward the light.
A small object rolled through the oven and dropped onto the service-room floor.
Metal.
Circular.
Anna picked it up.
An old brass key tag.
Stamped into it:
BELL, M.
Anna’s hands began shaking.
On the reverse was a date.
Eight years earlier.
The same night Mara disappeared.
May you like
And beneath the date were two words:
SUBJECT 01.
